Nosedive
by MacMhuirich
Summary: After he dies, an agent bravely embarks on his new mission as a savior.


_**Disclaimer**: as usual, I sadly don't own NCIS or any characters of this splendid show_

_Also, reviews are always welcome. _

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**NOSEDIVE**

And so he was dead. Bottom line.

He'd reached his final destination.

Just that single, well aimed bullet had seen to that. Not a bad way to go, come to think of it. Sudden death. Quick and painless.

He slowly turned around without actually moving his feet. No, he was simply rotating as if on some axis, taking in the whole scene like a 360° panoramic view, until his gaze came to rest upon his body, lying there, on the blood soaked ground – his blood... Only an empty shell remained – no life – no nothing.

So, what about him, then?

He felt nothing.

He was floating in the airs. His spirit was free to roam. At least, so it seemed. Deep down, he knew something was expected from him. This was not the end, then? Was there truly life after death? And, if that were the case: what would it be like? What was lying in wait for him?

At least he was thinking. _Je pense, donc je suis_. What could this mean? Dead but _not_ dead?

His body, this now discarded husk, that once held life...his life...well, that life had now been snuffed out. Just like that. His body would soon become one bloated mass, a rotting corpse to be infested with those clean-up guys – the maggots and what other bugs. Soon, there would be nothing left.

But his mind... he was still thinking, ergo, his mind was still intact. So, where was he then?

He looked down at... himself... and was surprised... or maybe not... that there still was a 'himself'.

There wasn't a single spat of blood on his pristine white shirt. He giggled at the thought that he so rarely wore a white shirt.

He dragged his gaze back to his 'old' body which was now surrounded by his team.

"_His former team_," he corrected himself, as he took in each individual's reaction to his death.

Tony... kneeling down by his side; hands resting on his thighs and head drooping in total dejection. Like he'd lost his younger brother.

Gibbs... inscrutable and stone faced as ever. He found it hard to comprehend what had happened. Another member of his team had been snatched away – had left without his permission.

Ziva... a tear escaping her eyes as she took in the scene. Incapable of believing that the soft spoken man, who'd first made her feel welcome to the team, had left.

And there was Ducky, too. Of course, he'd be the one to officially declare him dead. He'd just checked for a no longer existing pulse and was now in the act of closing unseeing eyes, his face expressing so much sadness. He would never get used to seeing those close to him on his autopsy tables.

Ah, and Jimmy... patiently waiting for Ducky to finish his initial examination, hoping against hope – like the others – that this body, amidst a puddle of blood, would still manage to suck in a live-saving breath. Wishing all this was not real.

In fact, it all _did_ feel so unreal.

He pulled his shirt from his pants and lifted it to check his ethereal 'body' for that single wound and found none. Not even one scar! No evidence at all of ancient injuries – and he had suffered a few. A completely unblemished 'himself' was what he found.

His look became distant as he idly wondered what was next.

And then it happened.

In the blink of an eye, he found himself in the frontseat of an unfamiliar car. He looked out of the window and it didn't take him long to recognize he was on the Beltway. He looked to the side. A young woman was steering the car from the third lane versus the Baltimore exit.

It was rush hour and traffic had quite suddenly and drastically slowed down for reasons usually unknown to the ones caught in the traffic jam.

He craned his head to see beyond the cars in front for the possible cause of the slowdown, when he heard a sound from right behind him. His brows went up a notch when he saw the object of the strange gurgling noise: an infant in a babyseat having the time of its life from what he could see from the little one's face and the wordless, yet happy sounds it made.

It brought a smile to his face.

But then the smile vanished as quickly when he saw through the rear window, as if in slow motion, a truck heading their way. Collision seemed inevitable. He could actually make out the truck driver's contorted features as the man stood on the breakes. However, the stretch of lane that was left for the huge vehicle to pull up was no enough to come to a stop in all safety.

He gulped and turned back to look at the young mother who still had noticed nothing. As fear clutched at his heart and his gaze was drawn to the rear window again, he observed in desparation that the truck had closed even more distance.

He frantically searched for a way out of this eminent danger and found – as if by magic – an opening in the lane to the right as other drivers had already noticed the trouble and made for the exit ramp.

The woman still had no inkling of what lay ahead of her. He sensed her thoughts were miles away and certainly not on her driving.

There was only one thing left to do: grab the steering-wheel, and pull them out of the way of the truck's path towards destruction, at the same time willing the other drivers in front to do likewise.

Amazingly, it _worked_! The woman actually – finally! - caught sight of the truck in her rearviewer and, eyes wide in abject fright, she steered her car to the right, jamming the brakes on, and all those in front of her did the same thing - as if choreographed!

They all made it in the nick of time!

The truck passed them close before coming to a screeching halt at, what seemed like, mere inches from a van which hadn't been able to get out of the way in time.

The air was heavy with burning rubber.

He leaned back in his seat with an almighty sigh and glanced at the young woman in the driver's seat. She was staring uncomprehendingly at the steering wheel as if it had just had a life of its own.

Realizing what had transpired, he felt his chest expand with pride and he smiled a beatific smile of sheer happiness at having had a hand in saving a live... several lives, in fact. Of that he was sure.

This was what he had always wanted, why he had chosen to make law enforcement his carreer and join NCIS. He was a crimefighter and savior. This life after death was like the sum of his ever present want to save people. This was so much better than what he had accomplished in real life. This was his heart and soul.

Who would've thought that?

Would he ever have believed this to be what lay in store for him after his demise?

He soared in search of the next challenge.

Hungry – now he felt hungry.

Oh! Was that food?

Small cubes of something he instinctly took for food, materialized and he picked one of those little things, that were hovering in front of him, to taste. And another one.

He was ravenous, after all.

"_Mmmm_... "

His expression turned pensive. He cocked his head and squinted his right eye, which those close to him used to take as one big question mark. He never needed to express his feelings in words – his face could convey those just as easily. It was all in the eyes, the lips, the angle at which he held his head.

Did angels – guardian angels – law enforcing spirits – whatever – relish food?

It certainly made him wonder.

He shrugged. What was the use of wondering, anyway.

It was there for the taking, he was hungry and it was the most delicious stuff he'd ever tasted – and all in such a little... thingie.

It made him glow with contentment and he was feeling so great.

He read his next assignment as it showed on a transparant type of screen – not unlike the familiar multi-touch interactive plasma screens he was used to work with at NCIS. He smiled at the memory of him testing one of those when in LA, and later at their own DC HQ.

"_White caucasian male aged 40. Profession: law enforcement, more specifically Special Agent at NCIS. Name of the subject: Anthony DiNozzo..._"

He frowned. Where did that come from? Strange. Didn't that name ring a bell somewhere? Where did he know this name from?

Then a picture like those mugshots, popped up, floating in front of his bulging eyes. It gave him such a terrific shock that he was knocked clean backwards and upwards – such a boost that he suddenly found himself so high up in the sky that, as he looked down, he saw the landscape as one giant Google-map.

Stranger, yet, was that he didn't even feel scared or squeamish as he normally would when still alive. He was scared alright, but for a different reason than the sheer height!

No, it was not the height at all. Hey! He wasn't on a hot air balloon, was he? He turned this way and that, up and down,with such an ease...like...yeah...like an acrobat...in Cirque du Soleil!

Nope: no balloon.

But still: what a shock! His hand went to his thudding heart. His frantically, pumping heart? This couldn't be!

At that thought, he started spiralling down – and down – and speeding still further down. There seemed to be no stopping his fall back to earth.

Oh, but now this was becoming really scary: how could he break this breakneck descent?

"Oh dear God! Help me!" He cried.

As the ground got nearer and nearer, one last irrational thought struck him: if _he_ was supposed to save Tony... who, then, was going to save _him_?

Nearly there.

A whimpering "Oh no – oh no-no-no-nooooo!" - to be followed by one bloodcurdling scream from the depth of his lungs.

-ooOoo-

"Probie?" Tony tentatively called from whatever obscure task he was at and looked over at his teammate.

It had been oppresively quiet for the past two hours until his partner had become increasingly restless and then let out that hair-raising scream which had him jump from his chair.

He'd had a little catnap and when he woke up again, he had found McGee deep in Morpheus' arms, albeit in a rather uncomfortable position, reclined in his chair with his tall frame stretched to all of its 6 feet 10, head bent backwards at an impossible angle, mouth agape and snoring like a sawmill in full business.

Tony had been tempted to toss something – anything – in McGee's open mouth. Instead, with a grin on his face like that of the proverbial cat that ate the canary, he had taken a picture with his cell phone.

Now, however, Tony wasn't smiling. His friend was most obviously in distress, for he was flailing and, quite inevitably, fell from his chair which rolled backwards to come to a stop at the partition wall behind him.

"Nooooooooo!"

_Thud._

"Tim!" Tony sprang into action, pushing his chair back, and with a speed that belied his own exhaustion, he rounded Tim's desk, finding the younger man flat on his back, a dazed look in his big green eyes.

With Tony's help, Tim struggled up and sank back in his chair with a mighty yawn in which a tennisball might easily fit.

As Tim sat there, trying to clear his mind, Tony remained on his knees in front of him, looking up in his partner's eyes with genuine concern, which soon turned to relief and finally held a twinkle of mirth.

Tim ran his long trembling fingers through his hair and blinked several times, as he turned to look at the familiar surroundings, apparantly still not of this world.

He let out a deep sigh and first rubbed the back of his head, where a small goose-egg was already forming, then his eyes, before letting his hands slide down over his face clearing the last of the cobwebs.

Tim cleared his throat and licked his dry lips before venturing with a soft voice "I'm alive."

It was clear that he still wasn't too certain about this statement, as his eyes were about to pop from his head and his hand went tentatively out to touch his co-worker's as if to make sure he was truly there and not just a figment of his imagination.

Tony smiled at his friend's rather odd, yet comic, behavior.

"You...you're safe!" Tim whispered with more vehemence, yet still incredulous, staring into Tony's eyes.

Now Tony laughed. "Of course, Probie! Hey, it was only a dream... or a nightmare, on closer consideration."

"I was only dreaming." Tim finally acknowledged, giving a shaky laugh. "Yeah, I was only dreaming."

His gaze turned inward, and both he and Tony sat there, in companionable silence.

The elevator dinged and out of it stepped an agent from the other MCRT, heralding a new working day. Soon this place would be abuzz.

Both agents were jerked back into reality from wherever their thoughts had wandered and sat to their tasks. There was still so much to be done.

FIN


End file.
